by E. M. Moore
I nod at him, and he nods back at me. A show of mutual respect that I like, but it doesn’t last. He licks his lips, then presses them together in a mock kiss in my direction.
Johnny stiffens next to me, but I play along. I wave my fingers at him like a southern belle. “See you next week,” I say.
As we’re walking out to the car, I’m already in fight mode. My mind races with ideas of attack, the coming hours of training I’m going to have to fit in.
If I lose this fight, I’m done. I’m not dumb enough to think that if I lose, Big Daddy K will forget all this. It isn’t as if he’ll just punch me playfully in the arm and say, “Aw shucks. That’s too bad.”
If I lose this for him, not only do I lose his trust, but I’m dead.
26
Johnny and Magnum drop me off at my apartment building at the orders of Big Daddy K. It was decided Magnum will be my Evan stand in since they have similar builds. I don’t doubt they have similar skill sets, too. He’ll be a tough sparring partner; one I’ll need to get me in shape for this.
Johnny walks me up the stairs, his hand in mine. It’s odd seeing him here in this shithole of an apartment now that I’ve seen him in places of luxury. Now that I look at him, he does look a little out of place here, like he doesn’t quite fit.
He’s been tense on the car ride home, even while coming up with a plan. It isn’t until we’re outside my door, away from prying ears, that I have the courage to ask him what’s wrong. I’m supposed to be his girl, right? That’s a question girls can ask, and I have a feeling no one ever asks Johnny how he feels.
The tension leaves him, his shoulders falling. “It should be me fighting, not you.”
My first reaction is to laugh. There’s no way Big Daddy K would put up his own son. That’s just asinine. Johnny’s stoic though. He truly means what he’s saying. The thought pulls me up short. “That’s admirable,” I say. I shake my head because that couldn’t sound even less romantic than if I tried, so I try again. “We all have our roles to play in this,” I tell him, leaning down to catch his eye. “This time, it’s me who’s fighting.”
His jaw locks, and a fury crosses his face I haven’t seen before. “If he hurts you, I’ll kill him.”
The conflicting thoughts in my head all jumble together. Instead of expressing any of that, I say, “You know you can’t do that. A fight’s a fight. Whoever wins, wins fair and square.” The look Johnny shares with me next tells me he’s also figured out that if I don’t win, I won’t be around either. For whatever else he is, it does seem like he has at least some feelings for me. He may not understand them all, and he certainly doesn’t express them in the right way, but they’re there. “Tell you what,” I say to him. “When I win, I’ll let you nurse me back to health.”
Johnny’s lips twist. Hunger flashes in his eyes. “I like the sound of that.”
I’m not stupid enough to think that if I were to lose, Johnny wouldn’t just find another girl the next day, claim her, and be having this same conversation with her somewhere down the line.
It makes my heart ache for him. Being caught up in all of this, he doesn’t know what true feelings are. He doesn’t know the pure bliss of having someone care about you, or the heartache when it gets taken away. I guess that’s one thing that can be said for losing someone. At least you know how much it meant when you still had it. At least it tells you you loved someone with so much energy that it makes you die inside when they go. I have a feeling Johnny will never feel that.
This time, I initiate a kiss. His poor, confused soul. I press my lips into him like I’m trying to resuscitate him. I’m trying to infuse his soul. I’m trying to make him feel, not just at the surface, but bone deep. To the depths of his core. In every cell. I don’t know why I just haven’t given up on him yet. The pretty words he’s said are just regurgitation from thinking that’s what he’s supposed to say.
I want to light a fire in him. I want to help him like I want to help Oscar and Brawler. Maybe I see something in him, something that tells me even though he has evil DNA running through his veins, that this isn’t the life for him. He shouldn’t be going to meetings with talk of territories and fighting and murder and death. He should be going to college for crying out loud. It’s obvious he’s smart. You have to be to survive in this business, but his energy is going in the wrong direction.
That’s what I try to say with the press of my lips to his and the sweep of my tongue. He kisses me back with the same passion, but it’s short lived.
He backs away. “I have to go.”
He has to go scheme with his father. He hasn’t heard me at all.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Hey.” He cups my cheek. “Don’t be sad.”
I shake my head. “Just a long day.”
He kisses my forehead, his lips a soft press against skin but nothing more. At least not yet. “Get some rest. Tomorrow you’ll start training.”
He’s right about one thing. I don’t know one guy who would let his girl fight his battles for him if there was anything he could do about it. His words make me think he’s halfway to caring, but on the other hand, I don’t know if he’ll ever get there. If he’ll ever see he can have a better life.
He squeezes my hand. “Brawler should be inside.”
I press my lips together. Fucking wonderful. This day is about to get worse.
Just when I think he’s going to leave, he stays while I open the door, sending a warmth through me. Brawler stands from the recliner, his gaze staring holes straight through me. Johnny presses a hand at my back, ushering me in when the last thing I want to do is confront Brawler. “Bye, babe.”
I don’t answer. I’m too caught up in Brawler’s stare. As soon as Johnny’s footsteps fade away, I shut the door behind me. Everything I want Johnny to feel is seeping out of Brawler. From his every pore, from his eyes, from his chest heaving, he’s telling me he cares. “You aren’t fighting Evan.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“We all have choices.”
“Then my choice is to stay here.”
I turn, clicking all the locks into place. The heat of Brawler’s gaze makes my movements hurried. It’s amazing how rapid the feelings grew between us. Then again, it’s not all that difficult to understand. When you live a life here, you never know which day will be your last. Brawler knows that more than most.
The two tattoos gracing his neck tell his story, but they also tell a cautionary tale. You don’t even have to be directly involved in shit to become a victim of hate. When you never know what might happen, you find that the world opens up to you. You find beauty in strange things. You find feelings in the tiniest of moments. In that, him and I are the same.
The heat from his body washes over me before his fingertips graze down my arm and back up, circling where he patched me up from the day Johnny slammed me against a wall. His fingers trail down my arm, across my wrist, until they tangle with my fingers.
He kisses my neck, and I drop my head to the side, allowing him space. “I asked for you,” he breathes. “I asked for someone to give me a reprieve from all this fucking pain. You’re the first person to draw me out, to make me stop. You, Kyla.” His soft lips trail to the spot behind my ear, and my body shakes as the sensations roll through me.
He grips my hand before moving them both to my stomach, splaying our fingers there, pushing me back into him until his hard cock presses into my lower back. He takes my cell phone out of my back pocket and tosses it onto the recliner before fitting himself behind me again, making delicious waves of pleasure tighten my core.
“I know I can’t. I know I’m just sentencing myself by even touching you like this, but when you’ve lived in the dark for so long and only one thing brings you out, that’s not the time to go running scared. I don’t care, Kyla. There was never much hope for me anyway, and I’d rather die at your altar than turn away.”
I breathe in a shaky breath, letting my head fall back onto his
shoulder. He presses more soft kisses to my skin, making my body come alive under his touch.
He’s right. I came here to the Heights so I could have moments like this after I took my life back. Taking Big Daddy K out means taking control of my life. It means having moments like this, a reprieve from the thoughts that have haunted me.
“I asked you once if I could touch you, if I could kiss you. Please tell me yes.”
My body aches. It can’t hold back anymore. “You’re already kissing me, aren’t you? You’re already touching me.”
His fingers tighten on my stomach. He breathes out, his hot breath teasing my already sensitive skin. “I need to hear you say it.”
Growing some lady balls, I turn in his arms, facing him. I want him to see how much I mean it when the words come out of my mouth. I lift my hand and press my palm into his cheek. His blue eyes light with desire. “I want you to touch me. I want you to kiss me until I can’t breathe anymore and then kiss me again to fill me back up.”
He doesn’t need any other invitation than that. His lips slam into mine, moving us back several paces before he steadies us. He kisses me like a man starved, his hands capturing the back of my head to hold me in place. He devours me. Attraction radiates through every lick, nip, and stroke.
One arm bands around my back and lifts. I bend my legs, pressing my thighs into his hips as he walks me into the bedroom. We stand there, each devouring one another until he breaks the kiss, pressing his lips down my neck and collarbone. I breathe out, biting my lip as shivers overtake my body. I start to rock into him, and he pauses, moaning against my skin. “Fuck me.”
“I intend to,” I say, smiling.
He pulls back, caught off guard. He presses a chaste kiss to my collarbone. “One day, but not now.”
I pout, and he grins.
He presses a finger into my lip, effectively stopping me from asking why. “Today, I want to taste. You told me I can kiss and touch, and I’m taking full advantage of that fact, Princess.”
He lowers me to the bed, my back landing on the soft sheets while he stands between my legs. He places one knee between my thighs and leans over, kissing the base of my throat, and then trailing his nose down my body, making a flush of heat follow him wherever he goes. When he gets to the tops of my jeans, he leans back, using his hands to make quick work of the button and zipper. I lift my ass as he pulls them down, taking his time, trailing his fingers down my legs as he frees one foot first then the other.
Leaning over me again, he kisses a trail across my abdomen, then moves up, moving my shirt with him. When he gets to my bra, he uses his hands to move it up and over my breasts until he’s helping me pull the shirt off. He tosses it to the side and stares down at me. His gaze lingers. I don’t have anything he hasn’t seen before, but the way he stares at me makes me feel like I do. He makes me feel special, wanted.
First, he trails his finger along the curve of my bra, lips chasing his soft stroke until he’s pushed the cup aside and captured my nipple in his mouth.
I buck off the bed. “Fuck.”
He presses me back down, trailing his lips down my front until he hovers over my drenched panties. He slides them off with the same care he did my pants.
My heart lurches in my chest. I’m not a virgin. I’m not a stranger to sex, but this is different. I’ve always been a in-the-heat-of-the-moment-I-just-want-that-release kind of girl. I want the high of breaking apart, and my partners were only too willing to give that to me.
This is something much different. His heart is in every move he makes. He’s not just chasing his own release, he’s making this about me.
He traces his hands up my thighs, then pushes down until I’m bared to him. Even though everything I have is just waiting for him to ogle, he stares into my face. He keeps my gaze as he leans down, his hot breath hitting my core. My hips arch off the bed. “Oh God.”
He smooths his hand along my stomach, fingers spreading wide over my skin, and when he finally darts his tongue out, he closes his eyes as if he’s taken his first breath of fresh air in years. “Mmm,” he murmurs.
Fuck. This is too much.
He slides his other hand under my ass, propping me up to him like I’m his last meal. He sweeps his tongue over my clit, and my whole body trembles. He nuzzles me, taking his time in deciding where to taste next. Where to devour me. The anticipation is almost too much. He presses a soft kiss to my fold and then licks a drop of pleasure seeping out of me. “God, Kyla.”
My toes curl. I press my knees to the bed, moving closer to him, silently telling him I want more of what he’s giving me. At this point, I might just come apart with any of his tastes that last longer than a second. Fuck, I might just cream before he does anything.
I whimper, a sound I’m not used to hearing from me during sex, but it’s well deserved. Brawler opens his eyes to watch me. His gaze turns darker, like a dark fire has lit him from within. “You want me,” he says, not a hint of question in his gaze or words.
I can truthfully say I’ve wanted him to touch me more than anyone else I’ve ever met. Which makes me think he’s done all this on purpose. The fuck if I care. “I do.”
This time, he locks gazes with me as he gives me exactly what I want: him. If it’s not his tongue devouring me, it’s his blue gaze, heightening the pleasure coursing through me. He’s skilled, his tongue sweeping over me in expert strokes as I cling to the bed for support. He laps at me, hungrily, enjoying this as much as I am. Just when I think I can’t take anymore, he flicks his tongue over my clit.
It doesn’t take him long to make me cry out. I clutch his shoulders as he barrages my core with more until my limbs relax like useless putty, waiting to be molded into something new.
After I come back down, he slips in beside me, holding me to him. I try to ask him what he wants me to do for him, but he tells me to stop and kisses my temple as he holds me, molding his body around me until neither one of us can tell where one of us begins and the other ends.
27
The next week, we barely bother with school. For me, that’s never been the point of being here other than the fact that I needed to be where the Crew was. Since they’re always around me now, and we have more important things to worry about than our grade in English, we don’t even pretend to care we’re missing out on it.
Oscar is the only one who goes just enough to stay on the football team. Not even the administration of Rawley Heights will look the other way in that regard, but it doesn’t have anything to do with enforcing the rule. It has everything to do with the fact that if they enforce the rule, they’re hoping they can use it as a way to shut the sport down. It’s one of the few ones still being funded by the shitty money the school gets every year, and I half suspect that the team isn’t getting all the money they’re supposed to be allocated anyway.
But that’s a fight for another time.
Brawler hasn’t left my side. Oscar, when he’s not taking care of his mother or at practice, is with me, too. They seem to have come to a sort of truce. For now. Each one eyes the other when they’re with me. And when Johnny is around, each of them stalk to the sidelines like Johnny’s kicked their puppy.
Magnum is all business. I have to hand it to him. He’s taken a lot while we’ve trained. Don’t get me wrong. He’s given a lot too. I had to stop an argument between him and Johnny because Johnny thought he was giving it to me too rough. When I explained that Evan will be trying to kill me, and I need Magnum to do as much if not more, so that I can come out on top, he stopped, begrudgingly. The rest of the night he eyed Magnum like he was plotting his demise.
Magnum, Oscar, Johnny, and I have been going for morning runs. Magnum drives us to a park in Johnny’s nice car where we get out and run like we’re a running club instead of four people worried about winning the rights to continue an illegal underground fight ring. We pass other morning joggers every day who I’m sure aren’t happy about seeing the newcomers on the trail. They eye us warily. The
guys I’m with are badass looking, and every one of them exudes trouble. If Brawler jogged with us, I’m sure the other runners would stop coming once they spotted his tattoos. Little would they know what they represent. To them, he’d just be a thug with a neck tattoo who has ruined his chance for any real employment. To me, he’s a hell of a lot more.
Whenever Johnny isn’t around, we sneak kisses, words of affection, and come together to plan the fight with words hanging heavy between us. In each other, we have more reasons for me to come out on top. For us, it’s more than just getting the win for the Heights Crew, it’s needing to win so neither of us have to lose again.
Oscar helps where he can, but I’m adamant about not sparring with him because he can’t get hurt while football is still ongoing. He let it slip that he’s up for a major scholarship. One that could give him the money for college. Knowing Oscar, he could give a fuck about college, but it’s the opportunity to keep playing that makes him tick. It’s the possibility that he could move on from that and play professionally even. It makes me sad to think I was only able to watch part of his game before. Even in those few short minutes, I saw the caliber of player he was, but I would’ve loved to have seen more. Seeing Oscar play football is like seeing into his soul. When we’re anywhere near the Heights Crew, Oscar’s in a disguise he has to wear to stay alive.
Two days before the fight, Johnny takes my hand in his. “I’m claiming you for tonight.”
My flirtatious banter with him comes easily now. It’s almost like I’m not pretending. I seriously worry for my sanity. “You already claimed me.”